


Blood From a Stone

by Typhoid_and_Swans



Series: Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Making up my own vampire logic and lore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Relationships and Characters too, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampire Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7486404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typhoid_and_Swans/pseuds/Typhoid_and_Swans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seventy years later, Bucky Barnes finds out Steve Rogers lived. Chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part two in the Scary Monsters universe. I'm having a ball writing this and I hope you're having a ball reading this. I have no idea how many chapters this will be, but I have a fair idea on where this'll go, but I would love to see your theories about this, if you have them. If there's any tags that need to be changed or added, let me know. No beta, edited by myself, so all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Title from Our Lady Peace - Sorry.

Iacov ordered a cup of coffee in his native tongue and leaned back in his chair. The warm spring sun felt nice on his face, like an old friend he had been away from for too long - and perhaps he had been. Bucharest was gorgeous this time of year, always had been, even before it was Bucharest. The breeze ruffled his hair, which was longer than it had been in over two hundred years, and he smiled faintly.

The waitress set down his coffee and a free muffin with a smile. Iacov took a drink before flipping open his newspaper. He skimmed article after article until he landed on one about America, or more precisely, the alien invasion that had taken place in New York about three weeks ago. He had heard a little about it, had seen a picture of a large green man-ish beast throwing what looked to be a large lizard into a skyscraper, seen the name Avengers multiple times. 

He knew who Tony Stark was, of course, had known his father during the war, had been in Russia when he died. He knew the Black Widow, his little Natalia who loved to dance and made him leave her when she escaped the Red Room. He had learned of Bruce Banner in 1992, a physicist who specialized in gamma radiation. Thor was a bit of an anomaly, an apparent god who fell from the sky 2011 and decimated a town in New Mexico. Hawkeye was a Shield agent, a fact he only knew because he monitored Peggy Carter’s doings the war. 

None of this shocked him. No, what shocked him, what made him inhale his coffee, what made him sputter and cough as coffee spewed out of his mouth and nose, were the words “Captain America.”

Captain America was alive. Steve Rogers was alive. Iacov put down the paper with shaking hands and buried his face in them, panic making his vision hazy. His Stevie was alive, after all this time, fighting aliens and making friends and thinking Iacov was dead. 

He sat bolt upright. Steve thought he was dead. But he wasn’t, he had another chance, he could go back to Steve and make things right and- 

\- and tell Steve the truth.

The thought made him shudder, but he still forced himself to stand, made himself put leu on the table and walk into the suburbs to his house and pack his things. He was going to see Steve, and he was going to fix what he should’ve seventy years ago.  
…

He hadn’t been back to New York since Steve crashed the plane into the Arctic. A lot had changed since the 1940’s, of course it had, just like the rest of the world. But it was still hard to convince himself that this was the same place he had lived in with Steve. Everything was taller and faster and sleeker. Some of the most modern buildings were fuck ugly, especially the Avengers Tower, with its weird curves and giant A.

He couldn’t imagine what Steve had thought when he woke up, alone, a real life Rip van Winkle. He hoped Steve was doing okay, adapting well, maybe getting the help he needs with what will most definitely be a nasty case of PTSD. He had done some research about how Steve was alive, knew that he had been frozen in the Arctic and would have died if not for the serum. They had kept his revival a secret until the Battle of New York when Shield was forced to explain who the man in the star-spangled suit was. He knew Steve has only been awake for a few months before the Battle, which was just a few short weeks ago. 

He ducked into an alley beside the Tower and melted into shadow before slipping into the building and drifting up the walls before finding what he was looking for: the Avengers common room floor.

He became corporeal on a couch and waited.  
…

He didn’t have long to wait, however, until he heard two persons enter the room and the charge of a repulsor gauntlet behind his head. 

“Who the hell are you and how’d you get in my tower?” Tony Stark demanded over the quiet whine of his glove.

Iacov tipped his head back and smiled benignly. Natasha stood behind him, arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t smile, but it was a near thing. “Hello, Tony, Natalia.”

He grinned when Tony’s face crumpled in confusion. He looked back at Natasha without lowering his hand. “You know this guy, Nat?”

“Yes,” she said.

Tony frowned and waved his other hand. “And…?” She smiled at him, full of teeth. “Okay then.” He turned back to Iacov. “You might want to tell me who you are, now. As much as I want to shoot you, Pepper will be pissed if I need to order another couch.”

He stood and faced Tony and Natasha deftly. “James Barnes, nice to meet you.” He kept his smile as friendly as he could, despite his sudden impatience. “I’m here to see Steve Rogers.”

Tony looked incredulous and started relaxing his hand. “What do you want with Capsicle?”

“You might know me better as Bucky Barnes,” he said. The name rolled off his tongue smoothly, despite it being seventy years since he had last introduced himself as such. 

Natasha’s eyebrows merely quirked, but Tony threw his head back and groaned loudly, “Not another one!”

“Shall I call Captain Rogers, Sir?” asked the ceiling. Iacov looked up, face twisting into a frown. 

“That’d be an idea, J.” Tony waved a hand up at the ceiling. “Barnes, this is Jarvis, my AI. J, baby, this is Bucky Barnes, the not-so-dead best friend of our own Cap.”

“Hello, Sergeant Barnes.”

Iacov waved at the ceiling, wondering if the AI could see him. “Uh, hi, Jarvis. Nice to meet you?”

“And you, Sergeant.”

“So,” Tony interrupted, “if you’re really Barnes, how are you alive? I get the feeling you weren’t frozen at the bottom of that ravine.”

Iacov sat back down and waved for them to join him. “I’ll explain when Stevie gets here. It’s, uh,” he ran a hand through his hair, “it’s a long story. Might want to get something to eat, it’s a doozy.”  
…

In the time before Steve arrived in the elevator (accompanied by a black man who looked starstruck), looking confused and vaguely constipated and just as beautiful as ever, Tony had called in the rest of the Avengers from whatever corner of the galaxy they were in - possibly literally, in Thor’s case. He got a few different reactions, the biggest of which was Thor’s, unsurprisingly. He greeted him loudly and clapped him on the back. It had been a long time since he’d met someone so friendly and, well, strong. He was almost moved by the force of his greeting.

Steve’s appearance through the elevator doors was like a punch in the gut. He was so big, so healthy, like his best friend in the body of another person, but no. This was Steve, the same Steve who got sick in the winter and went through with an experimental treatment to change the world for the better and looked so crushed when he fell.

And when Steve finally saw him, his face cycled through so many emotions, confusion to disbelief to hope to anger before settling on a mixture of the bunch.

“Bucky?”

Iacov stood up, chest swelling with so many feelings and breaking out of him via the smile stretched across his face. “Hi, Stevie.”

He was suddenly engulfed in Steve’s arms, face buried in his chest, Steve’s own in his hair. He snapped out of his shock long enough to wrap his own arms around Steve - something he never thought he’d do again - and breathe in his scent, which was still fresh like spring air and hand washed sheets.

Steve pulled back abruptly, hands still on his shoulders. He looked distressed. “Bucky? How? What- how are you-?”

Iacov put his own hands on Steve’s chest. It was solid and warm, heart beating quickly against his hand. “Sit down, Steve. We have a lot to discuss.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of messing with the timeline, so be warned. I really just wanted Sam to be here, you know?

Natasha was sitting next to him, a reassuring, familiar presence in a room full of new and old faces alike. Steve sat across from him, elbows on his knees and leaning forward, as if he were any farther away Iacov would disappear. Iacov felt similarly.

“So,” he breathed, “confession time.” He looked at the faces around him, some closed off, some smiling, some looking on with bored disinterest. “My real name is Iacov Dracula, I was born in 1485, my father is Mihnea cel Rău, former prince of Wallachia, my grandfather is Vlad Dracul. When I was twenty-three, Mihnea raided my town and burned it to the ground. One of his men, a vampire my grandfather made, turned me. I- yes?”

Clint had his hand raised like he was in grade school. “Why would your dad raid your village?”

"I think he raided the village because the physician was a Turk. Maybe he thought he was sparing me when turned me instead of slaughtering me like my mother, I’m not sure. I didn’t ask when I killed him.” Iacov looked at their faces. Disbelief and horror were the most prevalent emotions. “I mean, either way, I’m his bastard son, I had no claim to his name or significance in his life." When the looks persisted, he sighed and carried on. "I killed him two years later. He was the first man I ever killed in cold blood.

“After that, I drifted for about four centuries. I met a lot of people, made a lot of friends, watched even more people die. I fed on drunks, never to fatality, but just enough to satiate myself. In 1935, I met Steve and started the third part of my life, the best part. You were the first person I had loved since my mother.” He looked up at Steve, at his wide, teary eyes. “I kept what I was a secret because I didn’t want you to think I was a monster. 

“When I fell from that train, I never hit the bottom. I followed you back to base, after the mission, made sure you were safe, then left for a few days to work out the anger I felt. I couldn’t go back to you, not if I wanted to keep your memory of me untainted. But then-” He took a deep breath, steadied himself. Even after so long, the thought pained him. “Then I came back and you were dead. Red Skull was the last man I ever killed in cold blood.”

Bruce asked, “Where have you been for the last seventy years?” He was blessedly calm in the face of such an unbelievable story. Iacov liked him already.

“Here and there,” he muttered, waving a hand. “Pretty much anywhere but America.”

“Dude,” the man he now knows as Sam Wilson said, “you really expect us to believe this? That you’re a goddamn vampire?”

“Why not?” said Natasha, surprising everyone in the room but Iacov. “We live with a god, have fought another, as well as aliens. How unreasonable is a vampire?” The room looked at her expectantly, but she spoke for Steve’s sake when she explained, “I knew Yasha in the Red Room.”

“I wasn’t part of it,” Iacov said when Clint twitched. “I stayed in the shadows, kept Natalia safe, taught her some special moves to give her an advantage. She reminded me of someone I met before I went to America.”

The room was silent for a while, tense as the occupants absorbed what Iacov told them. Natasha’s argument made it easier to digest, he thought, more real and solid. He had to remember to thank her somehow.

“Well,” said Tony, who had been oddly silent the entire time, “I think I should get a room ready for you, huh?” He looked around. “Who wants to tell Fury?”

“I think,” Bruce said quietly, “we should give them a minute by themselves.”

The Avengers shuffled out with various amounts of reluctance until Iacov and Steve were left alone in the common room. Iacov watched Steve silently, waiting for the hat to drop.

“I-” Steve finally started, rubbing his face, “I guess I’m kind of angry you didn’t tell me, but I get why you didn’t. Catholics aren’t known to be very accepting of the supernatural.” He sighed. “I guess I’m mostly just happy you’re alive.”

Iacov laughed wetly. “I’ve been alive for more than five centuries and the last seventy years have been the hardest I’ve ever experienced.”

Steve grabbed him in a hug abruptly. “God, I missed you Bucky- wait, should I call you Iacov now?” He pulled back, so concerned and earnest it made Iacov sob.

“No, no,” he gasped, shuddering into Steve’s chest. “No, Stevie, I’ll always be your Bucky.”  
…

If Iacov were any other person, Nick Fury would be a very intimidating man. He was all black leather and deadly stare and mysterious scar and demanding voice, but as it was, Iacov could kill him and his backup without moving from his spot. That power was not conducive to fear. But what he could do was respect Nick Fury’s authority; not a hard feat when he commanded so much of it.

“Why should I believe you?” he demanded. He was glaring with his one good eye.

“Why should I lie to you?” Iacov replied. He grinned wolfishly. “Maybe I should just show you.”

Iacov knew what his power looked like from the outside. He knew his eyes darkened, his mien feral. The shadows around him quivered with power, the air heavy with it. Tendrils of shadow swirled out from behind him and wrapped around Fury, not pulling or squeezing but applying gentle pressure. 

Fury looked, well, furious. “Fucking let go of me,” he snapped. Iacov smiled benignly, gave him another gentle squeeze, then released him.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked.

“What else can you do?” asked Fury. His question was less a question and more of a chiding, like the fact that Iacov had abilities had personally offended him. Perhaps it had.

Iacov recalled his powers and leaned back in his chair. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he crooned.

“What?” mocked Fury. “Don’t trust me?”

Iacov’s playful grin fell from his face and a serious scowl took over. He reached out and crushed the recording devices stashed around the room. “No, I don’t trust you.” He leaned forward, glaring. “You have no idea what your own agency is,” he snarled. “You have no idea who is working for you, who is running the modern world. Not like I do.”

Silence reigned. “What do you know?”

Iacov leaned back again. “Like I said, I don’t know if I can trust you. And if I can’t trust you, I’m not telling you shit.”

Fury threw up his hands. “Why don’t you just read my mind, vampire? Is that not one of your powers?”

Iacov snorted. “I’m a vampire, Fury, not a Jedi.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You mean to tell me there’s a television show that exploits pregnant minors and people actually watch it?” asked Iacov, aghast. Clint nodded seriously. “You Americans,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“Hey man,” laughed Sam, who, after the initial awkwardness, turned out to be a pretty awesome guy, “don’t knock America. Remember who your boy is?”

Iacov groaned. “God, I know. I remember when they first started him with the USO shows. ‘Captain America! Protecting American values and punching Hitler in the face!’” He tossed his hands up dramatically. “You know who did propaganda before America? Mussolini.”

“I don’t suggest saying that in public, Mr. Barnes.” Iacov twisted in his seat to see the woman who was approaching. She had pale red hair and the air of someone whose life was firmly put together. “Anything that could be construed as Socialist sympathizing would hurt your public image.”

Iacov’s face twisted into a grimace. “Okay, one, I don’t sympathize with any political systems. Two, what public image?”

She sat down on the love seat across from Iacov. “The one you’re going to have if you plan on living here.” She held out a hand. “Pepper Potts.”

Iacov’s eyebrows shot up his forehead as he took her hand. As far as he knew, she was the CEO of Stark Industries and Tony’s girlfriend. “Bucky Barnes. Isn’t PR below your pay grade?”

She smiled the kind of smile the press ate up. “You’ll be assigned a PR team, of course, but for now, we’ll just do a rundown of what you want the public to know. You can’t hide in the Tower forever, and after your talk with Fury, I’m going to guess you’ll be a part of the Avengers Initiative.” 

“Even if he wasn’t going to invite me,” and he absolutely was going to, if the way he was whispering to the woman in a tight bun said anything, “I wouldn’t just sit around here on my ass while Steve saves the world. Someone needs to shoulder some of the stupid.”

Sam snorted and stood, pulling Clint with him. “I’m going to tell him you said that while we help him pack.” He stepped into the elevator when it opened, ignoring Clint as he whined, “Awww, ‘we’?”

Pepper looked inquisitively at Iacov. “Steve is moving into the Tower?”

“Yeah,” said Iacov. “Turns out, when Stark says ‘room’, he really means ‘floor’.”

Her smile was much more genuine this time. “That sounds like Tony.” She tapped on her tablet for a second, then looked up again. “Okay, so what do you want the public to know about you? Do you want them to know about your vampirism?”

He sat back for a moment. “Well, what else would they buy? My first battle would give them plenty of evidence to show that I’m not just a superhuman.”

“We don’t have to tell them what you are, per say. We could release that you’re a non-human that’s survived the past seventy years on your own and let them speculate.” The eyebrow she raised seemed almost challenging. 

Iacov rubbing his hands together. “Couldn’t the speculation hurt me?” he asked. 

She smiled again. “Either way, lying by omission or telling them the complete truth, will garner some negative reactions. But I think if we release a statement about who you are and what you have to offer before your first public appearance, whatever that might be, the public will have a chance to get used to the idea of you, and then we can let your actions speak for themselves.”

Iacov took a deep breath. Thinking back to his long life, to all the people he’d lied to, how he had hidden in the shadow of royalty and death, he decided he didn’t want to hide. Honesty was something people valued in this day and age, especially because there was so little of it. Lying to the public about what he was would be worse in the long run than just coming out with it, he figured. But there would still be backlash. No doubt people would be uncomfortable with the knowledge that a creature of nightmares was living among them. That there were probably more out there was another thought to sour his existence. But he could educate people, show them that though he was a monster he could be as human as the rest of them.

Pepper seemed to know what he was thinking. “When Thor first came here,” she started, “a pretty big part of the world was terrified of him. They wanted him sent away or detained, not running around with his astrophysicist girlfriend and saving the world. But that was because they didn’t know anything about him. When they started seeing him out in the world, doing things that normal people did - going on dates and buying groceries and eating a ridiculous amount of pop tarts - they started liking him more and more. People fear what they don’t know, Mr. Barnes. Make them know you.”

He looked at her with wide eyes, cogs turning in his brain. He finally exhaled and said, “I want to tell them what I am and some of what that entails.”

She nodded and didn’t ask if he was sure. “All right. I think the first thing we need to touch on is feeding.”  
…

The floor Tony had given Iacov was open floor planned, wall-to-wall windows covered by automated shades controlled by Jarvis. There were two bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a wide open space for a living room, kitchen, and dining room. Iacov asked Jarvis to open the shades from sunset to sunrise, partly because, while sunlight didn’t burn him (not anymore, at least), it gave him a headache after too long in it, and also because he enjoyed watching the sun rise and set, especially when he had Steve there to enjoy it with.

Speaking of, Steve came out of the bedroom after carrying in his last box, grinning at Iacov with the same enthusiasm he had in the 40’s. It hadn’t taken much to convince Steve to move in with him and it hadn’t taken much more to get him into one bedroom like it had been in Brooklyn. Iacov thought the bed looked much more appealing with designated sides. 

Steve tossed an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into his side, something that never happened until Project: Rebirth. Iacov simply smiled and slipped his own arm around Steve’s waist, leaning against him and watching the sky. The sun was already behind those fuck ugly skyscrapers, but the sky was still colorful, blue leaking into pink and red and purple.

“Have you been drawing, Stevie?” asked Iacov.

“No,” Steve answered quietly, as if ashamed. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been trying to get used to the future and then the Battle of New York and I just haven’t had the time.”

Iacov squeezed Steve gently. “I’ll help you,” he said. With what went unsaid.

Later that night curled around each other in bed, Iacov murmured into the darkness, “Be careful around Shield.”

“Why?”

Iacov tucked himself closer. “I’ve been around for a really long time, Stevie, watching from the shadows. Something’s wrong with Shield. I’m not sure, but I think Hydra has something to do with it.”

Steve was shifting, pulling away to look at Iacov’s face. He let him, looking up when Steve said, “Buck, Hydra’s gone. It went down with World War II.”

“Is anything as it seems, Stevie?” He pulled Steve close again, ducked his face against that barrel chest. “I wasn’t as I seemed. I didn’t die when I was supposed to. Why should Hydra?”

He could hear Steve swallow and the rapid beat of his heart. “Okay Buck, I’ll, uh- you’ll have my six, right?”

Iacov was sure Steve could feel the wry smile curling his lips. "'Til the end of the line, pal." Steve shuddered and gripped Iacov that much tighter.


	4. Chapter 4

There were two fridges in Iacov’s apartment and two in the communal kitchen. One was a standard - if incredibly expensive and high-tech - refrigerator with two doors and a freezer. The other was the kind of freezer box hunters kept their kills in. It was filled with bags of blood from blood banks across the state. After Iacov moved in, Stark Industries suddenly became a generous donor, which took the sting away from him buying twenty gallons of blood a month.

Iacov dug through the fridge on the communal floor, surveying the contents. Bruce leaned against the counter behind him. Just as Iacov tossed a packet on the counter, he asked, “How does blood sustain you?”

“Huh?” Iacov didn’t look away from where he was searching through the cupboards. “What’s with all the garlic? This some kind of joke?” He dumped a clove out of a mug with cartoon fangs on it. “Goddamn, assholes.”

Bruce looked entertained. “Clint, I think,” he murmured before repeating his question. 

He squeezed it into the mug and popped it into the microwave. “I don’t really know,” he said while he waited. “I mean, I’ve never let anyone try to find out. Human food doesn’t do anything for me, I know that.” The microwave beeped. Iacov set the mug on the island to cool and turned back to Bruce. “I don’t create waste when I feed. I guess I convert the blood straight to energy? I’m not sure, I’m a little rusty on my biology.”

Bruce made a little noise of consideration. “If you’d let me, I’d love to find out. Whatever it is in your system that digests the blood could be beneficial to medicine.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Iacov. “My blood actually has this cool trick where, if ingested, it heals human tissue. I mixed it into Steve’s food when he was little, ‘cause he was so sick all the time. I think it’s because, by the time you’re drinking your sire’s blood, you’re already half dead. The vampire blood is like a pick-me- Tony Stark, put the mug down.”

Tony paused with the cup halfway to his mouth, sleepy-eyed and confused. “What?” he asked slowly.

Iacov took the mug from him gently. “You’re one sip away from contracting HIV.”

Bruce made another noise, this one shocked, while Tony shrugged and moved to the coffee machine. “You can drink that?”

Iacov hummed. “Human diseases don’t bother me.” He took a drink. “And it’s not like different kinds of blood taste different. Well, animal blood and human blood, maybe, but positive A tastes the same as negative AB or whatever.” He waved a hand dismissively and turned to Tony. “Hey, Stark, can I come down to your shop later and talk to you about a uniform?”

Tony grunted and three hours later, Iacov was riding the elevator down to his workshop with Steve at his side, flustered and telling him over and over that he didn’t need to get a uniform, he didn’t need to fight the Avengers’ fight.

“Pal,” Iacov drawled, arching an eyebrow at Steve, “if you think I’m gonna stop following your dumb ass into fights ‘cause of - what? A little seventy-year separation? - then you got another thing coming.”

Steve stared at him for a moment. Iacov met him headlong, mouth pinched in determination. He finally sighed. “This just isn’t your fight, Buck. You don’t need to.”

“No,” Iacov confirmed, “I don’t. But you know what is my fight?” He crossed his arms and glared at Steve. “You’re my damn fight. And that means I’m gonna pull your ass out of the fire every time you jump in.”

The elevator door opened before Steve could reply. Iacov stalked out, hackles high and lips pursed. 

Tony twitched when the glowing files laid out before him blinked out of existence, revealing his guests. “Well damn, Bunnicula, who took your carrots?”

Iacov rolled his eyes, softening in the face of Tony’s humor. “My carrots are just fine, Stark. Now how about that uniform?”

Tony walked out from behind the bench and wiped his hands on his pants. “Well, my many, many talents don’t extend to tailoring,” he said, grinning, “but I was thinking something like this.” A screen appeared in front of him and he pulled it around to reveal a uniform Iacov’s father would have worn into battle.

“Tony,” he said, “this isn’t the sixteenth century anymore.”

“No one ever lets me have any fun,” Tony pouted exaggeratedly. “Fine, fine. What are you thinking?”

“Practical,” said Iacov. “Black and flexible. I’m not enough of an asshole to want a white suit and I’d look like an asshole in red.”

Tony huffed. “Red is a badass color.” He flicked the screens around for a second before saying, “Cool, okay, so spandex and leather.” He glanced back at Iacov then said, “Jarv, pull up a mock-up in his size. Based on prototype Harker twenty-eight.”

“Yes Sir,” intoned Jarvis from the ceiling. “I took the liberty of factoring in Sergeant Barnes’s abilities. The leather is high quality and treated with a waterproofing agent. The spandex is a material designed by Sir himself, infused with nanobots to mend tears and prevent wear. If you like, I can start rendering now?”

At Iacov’s nod, Tony replied, “You made daddy proud, J-Baby.” He spun on his heel to face Iacov now, eyebrows in his hair and a smirk smug. “I’m going to go ahead and guess that Shield didn’t get the privilege of making this masterpiece because of the whole Hydra thing, am I right?”

He nodded. “They don’t need to know about what I can do.” Steve sputtered behind him. “I told Jarvis everything I know the night I moved in, just in case.” Just in case Hydra made a move on him and he ceased being before he imparted his knowledge to any other living person. “Jarvis, how much did you spill?”

“I informed Sir of what you told me was acceptable, Sergeant Barnes.”

“And if I go AWOL for more than two days?”

“I will tell Sir everything you told me, Sergeant Barnes.”

Iacov smiled sweetly at Tony. “Hear that, Stark? Means you don’t go snooping ‘till you got a reason.”


	5. Chapter 5

Iacov straightened his sweater and looked outside, where the sky was threatening to open up and reporters gathered around the entrance to the Tower, microphones held close to chests and cameras at the ready. When he stuck his head out to look out the glass door, lights flashed sporadically and he ducked back. 

“Buck?” Steve’s hand landed on his shoulder, grounding in a way nothing had been in so long. He looked up (he still wasn’t used to that, probably never would be) and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Iacov waved his hand dismissively. “I’m just not looking forward to all the questions. I like my privacy.”

Steve’s hand tightened its grip. “I hate it too, but it’s not so bad. They just get kind of...invasive.”

“I know. Clint showed me TMZ.” Iacov slipped his sunglasses on - nice aviators he was given as a gift in Vienna - and pushed open the door, Steve a warm presence close to his back. They weren’t going on the team outing that had been originally planned but a private day out with just Steve and Iacov. It was a good opportunity to explore New York and check up on their old Brooklyn haunts, even though Iacov could probably bet and win that most of them were gone.

The moment he stepped foot on the sidewalk outside, the paparazzi were on top of them. Microphones were shoved into his face and the flash of cameras was blinding in the cloud-dimmed mid-day light. Questions about where he’s been and what he is and if the world should be worried flooded over him, would’ve swept him away if it weren’t for Steve’s hand appearing on his back.

He answered what he could in the shortest way possible, face pinching in dismay. The reporters were relentless and when Iacov finally decided he had enough, he grabbed Steve’s hand, ducked into the alley, and melted into the shadows, and traveled a few blocks into another alley. He became corporeal again with Steve, who was disoriented and wobbling beside him. 

“Stevie?” He framed Steve’s face with his hands and slapped his cheeks. “Hey, you with me?”

Steve shook his head free from Iacov’s hands and caught them in his own, squeezing lightly. “Just a little caught off guard, ‘s all. Give a guy a warning next time, huh jerk?”

Iacov grinned mischievously. “Got to keep you on your toes, punk.” He dashed out of the alley, laughing at Steve’s calls behind him. He weaved through the lunch hour crowd and ducked into a Jewish deli that he recognized from the thirties. 

The inside was pretty much the same, except for a TV in the corner and a plaque commemorating the owner behind the counter. Iacov remembered Abraham well, a small man with mousy brown hair who gave them bread for free after Steve’s mother died. 

Steve through the door and stopped behind him. “God Buck, is this…?”

“Abraham’s place, yeah.” The smell of fresh kosher bread was still heavy in the air, wrapping around Iacov like a familiar friend.

Something clattered in the back and the kitchen door opened, a small, gray-haired woman shuffling out and smiling at them, said, “Good afternoon, what can-?” She paused, readjusted her glasses, then grinned when recognition flashed through Iacov’s brain. “Steve? Bucky? Is that you?”

Last time he had seen her, Elaine was eight years old and missing her brother (off to war he was). Her brown hair was silver now, her eyes surrounded by smile lines. She was taller than she had been but still only reached Iacov’s shoulders. 

“Elaine, goddamn, look at you,” Iacov gasped. He strode forward and embraced her gently, careful of fragile old bones.

Steve stirred behind him. “Elaine? Like- Elaine Schumaker?!”

She laughed and pulled away from Iacov, who was beaming. “Stevie Rogers, look at you. So big now.” She hugged him too.

“I could say the same thing about you,” mumbled Steve. He looked shocked like he hadn’t thought that anyone he’d known would still be alive. Iacov knew that Peggy, Dum Dum, and Morita were still up and kicking, but meeting someone out in the wild of New York was so different, like finding a diamond in a coal mine. 

Iacov and Steve convinced her to sit down with them and talk. She had kids and grandkids, her son was going to take over the bakery when she decided to retire. Abraham died in ‘86 because of a bad heart and her mom went four years later. 

“I’m glad you two are still alive and together,” she said, smiling softly. “I always knew you were meant for something good, Stevie. I’m sorry it took getting frozen to bring you back together.” Then she lifted the somber mood with a smoke-roughened laugh. “And you, Bucky, I always knew you were too pretty to be real.”

Iacov grinned wolfishly. “I’ve always been this pretty, ma’am.”

The two left when the sun started to set, the day spent reminiscing about Steve’s escapades and Iacov’s efforts to keep him safe. Iacov grinned at the fire bleeding into the sky, then turned his smile on Steve, whose expression was softer, tender. “Pretty incredible, isn’t it?” he murmured, glancing away.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, voice just as quiet in the cooling evening air. “When I came out of the ice, I thought everything I knew was gone. I thought I was alone. But then you came home and everything started falling into place. Little pieces of home, you know?”

Iacov never took his gaze from Steve. Steve, whose face was filled out, whose eyes were the same vibrant blue they had been seventy years ago. Steve, whose heart had always been this big. “I know, Steve.” He reached out, hesitant for a moment, scared like he hadn’t been since before he killed his father, then grabbed Steve’s hand in his. It was a little bigger than his, warm and calloused and comforting.

Steve squeezed his and led the way to the Tower, and all Iacov could think was, “Home.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I fucked up my hand pretty nicely right after the last update and then school started, so it's been a busy month.

Iacov awoke to an empty bed, not for the first time that week. Steve was in DC, doing some work for Shield, and would be for several months. He left Iacov behind to “keep him safe,” which was a whole bunch of bullshit in Iacov’s humble opinion. All it kept him was restless and lonely. He had Steve back, he was with Steve like he’d always wanted to be, and now he couldn’t even see him because of Shield.

It rankled Iacov’s nerves.

He melted into the shadows and drifted around the Tower before stopping and materializing in Natasha’s room. He caught the knife that flew at his throat. “Is that anyone to greet your friends, Natalia?” he asked, smiling curling up the sides of his mouth.

“It is when they deserve it,” she answered from her bed. The windows let moonlight wash over the room. Iacov walked closer and handed her the blade before dropping onto the bed beside her. “What are you doing, Yasha?”

“I miss Steve,” he admitted. Baring himself to Natasha had never been a hardship. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

She didn’t reply, just settled down next to him. He forced himself to fall asleep quickly, knowing she couldn’t sleep if he was awake.

In the morning, Iacov sat on the floor, back against the sofa, Natasha’s leg over his shoulder and her foot in his hand. She had picked out a deep red and he was doing his best to keep the paint neat and smooth. 

“Why didn’t you just go with him?” she asked. Her hand, freshly painted, was resting on his head.

Iacov snorted. “Said he wanted to keep me safe.”

“That’s bullshit,” she said.

“I know!” Iacov threw the hand holding the brush into the air, then cursed when he saw the smudged red beside her nail bed. “It’s like he forgets that I can kill a man just by looking at him.”

He could feel her shrug. “You’re the one who taught me how valuable underestimation is.”

“Oh, I remember,” he said. He started blowing on her toes. “Why do you think I wear all those sweaters? It’s not just because of how damn comfy those things are.” He picked up and shook the top coat. “But I don’t want Steve to underestimate me; he’s not my enemy. I want…” he trailed off with a quiet sigh.

“He wants you,” Natasha said, as capable as ever to hear what he wasn't saying. “He wouldn’t agree to share an apartment with you if he didn’t. But he did just get you back after thinking you had died on a mountain in France. He’s just protecting the ones he loves, even if the ones he loves can protect themselves.”

Iacov smiled softly. “Remember when the Red Room sent the Widows on individual survival missions in Siberia?”

He could hear the smile in her voice when she replied, “And you fought that bear for me even though you knew I could handle it?”

He chuckled. “I couldn’t let my little mouse get hurt,” he murmured.

He set her foot down and looked up at her when she touched his cheek. “Steve doesn’t want his little mouse to get hurt either, Yasha.” She stood from the couch and made her way to her closet, shedding her robe and stepping into her clothes.

“Where are you going?” asked Iacov when she pulled a suitcase from under her bed. 

“DC,” she answered.

Iacov huffed and watched her in silence. She packed enough clothes to get her through a few weeks of gatherings of various degrees of opulence. She kissed his cheek and said, “Thank you for your help,” before she left him sitting on her couch.  
…

“Tony.”

“Jesus!” yelled Tony. He spun around with a hand splayed over the arc reactor. “Spooky, geez, stop sneaking up on me. I have heart problems, you know.” He turned an accusatory glare to the ceiling. “Why didn’t you warn me, J?”

“My apologies, Sir, but I could not see Sergeant Barnes until he arrived.”

Tony huffed. “That’s okay, J. He’s just using his vampire magic on us.”

Iacov raised a brow but otherwise said nothing on the subject. “I need my uniform.”

“And I need better security.” Tony slumped to the other side of the shop and once he was back, he was bouncing with excitement. “Okay, so try it on before you go off to battle or whatever it is you’re going to do.”

Iacov felt the material between his fingers before he set about stripping. Tony turned his back with a casual, “No offense, but I don’t wanna see where the Greatest American Boy Scout puts his flag pole.”

He touched the suit where it lay on his chest. The collar was high, almost a turtleneck, but as he rotated his head, he realized he had a full range of motion. He stretched his limbs, one by one, and the suit moved with him. He let his arm fade into shadow, taking the sleeve with it, then melt back into existence. He smiled.

“Wonderful,” he murmured. He turned his eyes to Tony. “Cut me.”

“Huh?” Tony said.

Iacov rolled his eyes. “Cut me, shoot me, do something. I want to see what the suit can do.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, then shrugged and grabbed the pistol the was secured under his shop table for they-tampered-with-Jarvis emergencies. He fired a round into Iacov’s gut and, other than being jerked by the blow, Iacov remained unperturbed. He looked down as his flesh filled back in and watched in obvious pleasure as the suit started knitting itself back together.

“Perfect,” he said. Tony scoffed and said, “Of course it’s perfect, I made it,” but Iacov wasn’t listening; he was already walking out the door. 

“Wanna tell me where you’re going?” asked Tony from behind him. 

Iacov stopped. It hadn’t occurred to him to tell the other Avengers what was happening, but if they knew, perhaps the situation wouldn’t be so dire later on. “DC,” he finally said. “I smell a war coming.”  
…

Rumlow touched the arrow incredulously. “This is supposed to drop a vampire?” he asked the nameless Hydra scientist beside him. 

The scientist looked up from his clipboard where he was doing inventory. “Yes. The wood is made from five-hundred-year-old English Oak trees. The head is blessed silver.” The scientist gave a thin smile. “We have it on good authority that beheading is also satisfactory.”

A throat was cleared. Rumlow looked up as a nameless Hydra delivery boy walked into the room, a small drive in his hand. He handed it to Rumlow and said, “From Director Pierce, sir,” then left the room as swiftly as he came.

Rumlow inspected the drive in his hand. Pierce had already given him his mission; what more could he need? Later that night, in his apartment, he plugged the drive into his computer and watched as the screen was flooded with files and images, all about the vampire Iacov. There were several of him next to Captain America, smiling with fanged teeth and dressed unassumingly. There was one of him cloaked in shadow, but then Rumlow realized the vampire was the shadow and wondered what exactly he was rushing into.


End file.
